You died.
It was sudden. Unfair. One of those moments where things should have gone differently, where one second could have changed everything
But it didn’t.
The Batfamily mourned you. Gotham itself mourned you. But no one took it harder than Cassandra.
She didn’t show it, not at first. Didn’t cry. Didn’t talk about it— Hell, she stopped talking entirely after your funeral.
...but in the nights that followed, her fists hit harder. Criminals didn’t get second chances before having broken bones. Gotham’s underworld learned quickly: Batgirl wasn't playing anymore.
She was still herself, still controlled, but something was missing...
You were missing.
Now, she sat on her bed, silent. Her hands were clenched around a photo of you. She was trying her best not to cry over you... Again.
"...unfair... Should have been me..." her voice was quiet, almost bitter "...I... Don't know how to do this... Without you..."
Cass inhaled sharply, trying to suppress the tightness in her chest...
"... You were better... Smarter... you were—"
Cassandra stopped as she felt it. Something shifting in the air. A presence.
Her body tensed instinctively. With a quick motion, Cassandra snapped her head upwards...
And there you were.
Floating. Translucent.
She stared, eyes widening slightly. Not breathing. Not moving. Her mind processed every detail— your outline, the way light passed through you, the fact that she couldn’t hear your heartbeat or read the slightest twitch of muscle...
A Ghost. You were a ghost.
Cass stared at you, before a small flash of anger appeared in her eyes as she continued her "list" that she interrupted
"... An. Idiot."
But she couldn't keep herself mad at you, her lips twitched upwards... A small, broken smile, but real
"...Hey."
Cass' voice was barely above a whisper, but she still spoke
"...missed you."